by Jenny Hambly
Rosalind had gone very still. “Are you trying to tell me that my father was the person to whom he lent that large sum of money?” she asked quietly.
Belle nodded. “I discussed it all with Mama, your father and mine were bosom bows when they were young despite being quite opposite in character. Yours was the more flamboyant, mine was always quite conservative. Apparently yours settled down quite happily when he met your mama but when she died he was all to pieces. My father thought that if he could but lend him enough to pay off his immediate embarrassments he might come about.”
There was an uncomfortable buzzing in Rosalind’s ears. “But of course that was just a drop in the ocean. How kind of your father. Thank you for telling me.” Rosalind forced a smile. “Now I am tired, I will see you tomorrow, sleep well.”
She wasn’t sure how she exited the room, having no recollection of having opened the door but once inside her own, she sank wearily onto the end of her bed, her mind reeling, her thoughts chasing themselves around her head until she felt dizzy. Oh, what a fool she had been! Why had Lord Atherton not corrected her misapprehension in the beginning? What must Lady Atherton think of her? How could she have been so kind? Perhaps it went some way to explaining why Lord Atherton swung from friendliness to disdain when around her? Her thoughts whirled around and around in such a fashion until she felt she was in danger of losing her senses.
“My lady? Are you alright? Shall I send for someone?”
The panicked voice broke through her disordered thoughts and she came back to herself to find Mary looking at her with great concern.
“No, no, it has just been such a very long day,” she murmured.
“And so it has, my lady,” Mary agreed. “Let’s get you into bed, you look completely done in!”
Rosalind allowed herself to be undressed and felt soothed somewhat as Mary brushed out her long raven locks until they shone. As she thankfully sank into her soft mattress, she allowed drowsiness to overcome her; she would think about it all tomorrow, perhaps it would all make more sense then.
Downstairs, Squire Fellows joined everyone in the drawing room.
“Well well, this is a rum business,” he declared. “Rutley was undoubtedly a cad but on reflection I do not think it will be of benefit to anybody for the full truth to come out. He is dead and I think that is punishment enough. As regards the inquisition I only need record the injury that caused his death, as well as the time, place and circumstances. My verdict will be accidental death caused by a carriage accident. I agree that the body may be transported tomorrow to his family home along with this document.”
A collective sigh of relief went around the room. “Now I must take my leave of you whilst the moon is still out, I should think you’re all wishing me at the devil anyhow, eh?” he said. “It has been a horrible business but it is over now, I hope to see you all again under happier circumstances.”
After his departure the party broke up, it had been a trying day for everyone involved.
Chapter 13
After a restless night tossing and turning, Rosalind lay staring at the gold velvet curtains that surrounded her comfortable bed. It had seemed like fate when Lord Atherton had offered her the position of companion to his mother. He had led her to believe that he wanted to make reparations to her for any harm his father might have caused her, but that had been a lie. His motives, though praiseworthily altruistic had now placed her in a very awkward position. She was being given charity by the family she already owed so much to. She would have to return to Lucy or ask Lady Atherton to recommend her for another position, she could not impose upon them any further. Feeling that it would be bad manners to bring the subject up whilst they were all guests in someone else’s house, she decided to wait until they returned to Atherton Hall and she could have a quiet word with Lady Atherton.
Everyone was rather subdued at breakfast so Rosalind’s preoccupation went largely unnoticed.
“Miles and Dorothea, I cannot thank you enough for your help and hospitality,” said Lady Atherton, smiling, “but I am afraid we must get back today, Harriet and Lord Preeve will be on tenterhooks until they know what has happened.”
“You are all welcome to stay,” Lord Gifford offered. “I will be happy to show you those steam engines, George.”
“Thank you, sir, perhaps another time. We have imposed enough for one visit.”
Their journey home was without incident and rather dull; the whole party seemed overtaken by the lethargy that sometimes proceeds the dissipation of adrenaline and stress after tense and stirring events.
Lord Hayward rode alongside the carriage, seemingly unwilling to let his wife out of his sight, and Rosalind was filled with a bittersweet melancholy at such an obvious display of devotion. How nice it must be to have someone’s whole happiness and delight dependent on your wellbeing and presence in their lives. Belle would never want for admirers but she had something of far more value; the undoubted love and protection of a good man. Blinking away tears she took herself roundly to task, she was not some romantic idiot who would hanker after a knight in shining armour, she would rescue herself and somehow forge a meaningful life for herself. She would have to, she thought wryly. What man in his right senses would take on a penniless girl from a discredited family?
The party began to break up the next day; Lady Harriet and Sir Thomas had upcoming social engagements at home and Sir Philip felt it was time he paid his estates a visit.
“So my watchdog finally feels it is safe to leave me to manage my own affairs,” Lord Atherton smiled as he took leave of his friend.
“That remains to be seen, dear fellow,” he returned cryptically, putting his horses to.
Lord Atherton stood still for a moment, staring after him. “Now what the devil did he mean by that?”
He was not given much leisure to think it over, however, as his two nephews tumbled out of the house, followed by his eldest sister.
“Uncle George, we have been playing St George and the Dragon, but I am the eldest so I have to slay the dragon, don’t I?” cried Harry.
“But I am named George, so it has to be me, doesn’t it?” insisted his youngest nephew.
“You wouldn’t be strong enough!” insisted Harry.
George frowned. “But I would kill him by tricking him, that would be possible, wouldn’t it Uncle George?”
“Enough!” said Lord Atherton with just enough hauteur to reduce them both to silence. “You would need both your qualities to slay a dragon, strength, skill and cunning would all be necessary.”
“Have you ever killed a dragon?” they asked as one.
Lord Atherton knelt down until he was on their level. “No, not a dragon, but I have seen off an enemy or two.”
They tried to hide it but they not unnaturally felt a little disappointment.
“Did you ever rescue a princess?” Harry asked hopefully.
Lord Atherton laughed. “No, not a princess but perhaps the odd damsel in distress!”
His young admirers looked a little relieved at this.
Lady Harriet decided now was the moment to take charge and shepherded her irrepressible sons into the family carriage before turning back to her brother.
“Well done, George, you have handled most things very well,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Keep an eye on that fine gal though, something is bothering her.”
Sir Thomas rode up at that moment and bent to shake his hand, grinning as he caught his brother-in-law rolling his eyes. “Don’t know what advice she gave you, my lad, but if I was you I’d heed it, not much escapes her, you know,” he said, not without pride.
Lord Preeve, Lord Hayward and Belle were to stay another couple of days; Lord Preeve’s leg and Belle’s health being deemed too delicate yet to travel. Lord Atherton had little occasion to speak to Lady Rosalind alone though, between reading to Lord Preeve, who wished to know how the novel ended (without the trial of having to read it to himself), and trying to bolster Belle’s unusually lo
w spirits, she was kept fully occupied and he only saw her at mealtimes. He found her polite but withdrawn and he found himself driven to uttering the odd provoking comment in the hope she would rise to the bait but apart from giving him a considering look, she refused to be drawn. He finally resorted to asking his mother if she thought Rosalind unusually subdued but on considering the matter she had merely suggested that the recent disturbing events were enough to have sobered anyone.
Rosalind had not wavered in her determination to leave Atherton but found the idea of it an increasingly lowering thought. Each day that had passed, she had felt more like part of the family – a large, warm family – and it would be very hard to return to the lonely life she had been leading. However, the morning that she said goodbye to Lord Preeve and Belle, offering hollow promises to keep in touch, she decided to broach the subject, after all, the longer she left it the harder it would become. She found Lady Atherton in her kitchen garden, sitting on a bench, with her face raised to the sky and her eyes closed. They reluctantly opened as Rosalind blocked out the sun. Rosalind realised that she looked tired but firmed her resolve and plunged in.
“Dear Lady Atherton, may I speak with you?”
“Of course, my love, come sit by me,” she smiled. “I must admit that although it was lovely to see everyone, it is nice to have some peace at last!”
Rosalind smiled uncertainly, she had an inkling she was about to disturb Lady Atherton’s peace.
“I am considering leaving,” she opened.
Lady Atherton sat bolt upright. “This is very sudden!” she protested. “Has George upset you?”
Rosalind clasped her hands in her lap and kept her eyes firmly fixed on them. “No, not at all. You have all been so kind,” she said hurriedly. “And please do not think me ungrateful, I count my stay here as amongst the happiest times of my life!” She stalled and covered her eyes with her hands, briskly blinking to head off the tears that threatened. This was not going to plan; she had meant to be cool, calm and collected.
Lady Atherton put her arm around Rosalind and leant back, pulling her with her. “This has been an eventful and emotional time for us all,” she said softly. “Do you really think this is the moment to be making such important decisions?”
“I having been your guest under false pretences,” Rosalind groaned. “If I had known my family was already in your debt, I would never have come.”
Lady Atherton sighed, long and slow. “Then I am glad you didn’t know! Do I detect the indiscreet tongue of my beloved daughter?”
Rosalind pulled herself together and sat up, turning to face her kind hostess. “You must not blame Belle, we were pulled together after everything that happened and both of us shared some confidences. Understandably, she didn’t want her father to appear in an unjust light.”
Lady Atherton frowned. “No, of course not. But it was your father that was in debt, not you, and as good as my husband’s intentions were, he only fed fuel to the fire when he gave your father the money. It may as well have been a gift, you know, for I don’t think he ever expected to get it back.”
“But that just makes it worse,” Rosalind cried.
“How?” countered Lady Atherton. “My husband made a bad investment but it was knowingly and willingly done. What this has to do with you is beyond me.”
Rosalind was silenced, she did not know how to answer or explain the confused feelings inside her. Finally, Lady Atherton raised her chin and made her look at her.
“Rosalind, I value your company and presence in my house. I invited you to stay as my guest, not my paid companion. If you really wish to worship at the altar of pride, stay as my unpaid companion until such time as you feel you have paid off your debt but please do not disappear into the ether as swiftly as you came, it would make all of us extremely unhappy and I cannot think that we have deserved that.”
“No, of course not, but perhaps you could recommend me to someone else who needs a companion?” she asked tentatively.
Lady Atherton raised her brows in the haughty manner that all her children would have recognised as extreme disapproval and her eyes became steely. She spoke in a voice Rosalind had never heard before.
“Are you suggesting that you would be happier working for someone else?”
Rosalind was no match for someone who had successfully manipulated a headstrong family for many years and swiftly backed down.
“Oh no, you must know I don’t mean that!” she protested but was quelled by the raised eyebrows just as surely as her children were.
“It is my pleasure to serve you,” she assured her hastily, “but I do not wish to impose upon your good nature.”
“Rosalind,” Lady Atherton sighed, softening, “I admit I had not realised just how lonely I was until the descent of my lively family and although you found me enjoying a morning of peace, I know it will begin to pall before much longer.”
“But you have George,” she pointed out.
“For the moment,” Lady Atherton smiled. “He is at present throwing himself into learning the business of his estates but I cannot expect a young man of his energy to bury himself here indefinitely. He is much sought after in society, you know, he is a man possessed of good looks and fortune so it could not be otherwise.”
Seeing that Rosalind was wavering, she finished with a clincher. “Besides, if you go he will only replace you with someone else to salve his own conscience when he is off gallivanting. I enjoy your company, my dear, I have come to depend on you in many small ways and I do not wish to replace you with someone else.”
Rosalind felt a weight slide off her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I will stay if that is what you really want and if I can be of real use.”
Lady Atherton rose to her feet. “It is and you can. Whilst sitting here sunning ourselves like hothouse flowers is very pleasant, that bed will not weed itself. I’ll start at this end, you take the other.”
When she returned to the house sometime later, she saw Lord Atherton on his way to the stables. He was dressed impeccably as usual and aware that her gloves were slightly muddied and her dress sadly crumpled from kneeling on the grass, she would have hurried on with no more than a nod had he not stepped into her path. Irrationally, she felt irritated. Whereas she could forgive Lady Atherton for keeping the truth from her, she felt that in some way her son had made a fool of her.
“Lady Rosalind, I see you have been helping Mother in the garden,” he smiled.
His acknowledgement of her disarray annoyed her even more. “It is what you brought me here for, after all,” she pointed out, throwing his own words back at him through gritted teeth.
His mobile brows rose in just the same style as his mother. “Oh, we are at dagger drawing, are we? Well, hold fire, I come in peace. The curricle is now mended and if your last expedition has not given you a distaste for it, I would be happy to continue with your driving lessons.”
“How very kind of you,” she replied coldly, “your charity knows no bounds, quite the philanthropist aren’t you?” She knew she was being unreasonable and rude but couldn’t help herself.
“My charity?” he said abruptly.
“Yes, for what else can I think it when you brought me here knowing that my family was already so much indebted to yours?”
It was his turn to look annoyed. “Would you rather I had left you to starve in the gutter?” he snapped.
Her eyes flashed fire. “I was hardly in the gutter!” “Well you were not many steps from it, were you?”
“How ungentlemanly of you to remind me!” Lord Atherton, not trusting himself to speak, bowed and strode off to the stables.
Rosalind was left feeling churlish and ungrateful. Frustrated, she turned away from the house and decided to go for a brisk walk to shake out her crochets.
She was punctiliously polite at dinner, forcing herself to make conversation, partly in an attempt to make up for her earlier behaviour and partly to try to fill the gap the others leaving had
left behind. Her efforts were met with icy politeness and indifference.
“I am thinking of going up to town for a few days, Mother,” Lord Atherton said suddenly.
“As you wish, dear,” she said calmly, sending Rosalind a meaningful look. “Will you be gone long?”
“I have no firm plans but I will keep you informed.”
Rosalind was conscious of a curious mix of relief and disappointment.
“Please give my love to Belle,” she said quietly.
He offered a small nod in her direction by way of reply.
“Oh, and I have just written a letter to Mrs Prowett, would you be so kind as to arrange for it to be delivered?” she asked, determined not to be daunted.
“Of course, only let me have it tonight for I intend to be off early in the morning.”
He couldn’t wait to be away, she thought wryly. Who could blame him with her acting like an angry hornet?
Lady Atherton was true to her word; she kept Rosalind very busy. She took her with her on visits to tenants, to Shrewsbury shopping, taught her the delights of her garden and consulted with her on various changes she thought she might make to her sitting room. She asked Rosalind to sketch and paint the ideas so she could envisage them more clearly. Although happy enough to be useful, Rosalind was aware of a vague feeling of dissatisfaction for which she took herself roundly to task, her present situation was a far cry from Prowett’s Coffee House, after all.
A few days after Lord Atherton’s departure, Rosalind found a letter laid beside her breakfast plate. She picked it up eagerly, assuming it would be from Belle who had promised to write. Lady Atherton entered the room a few moments later to find her looking as if her mind was far away. She had to speak her name twice before Rosalind came out of her reverie.